The road was mud. Thick, cold mud. It sucked at my boots. I walked. I had to walk. The sun was low. It hung in the sky like a bruised eye. I saw the path. It was a line of gold. It cut through the grey heath. It looked like a vein of earth. I followed it.

My name was Elias. I was a stranger here. I had crossed the border at night. I left my home. I left my wife, Sarah. She looked at me with cold eyes. She said, You are gone. I said, I must go. I carried a bag. It held my coat. It held a loaf of bread. It held a small mirror. The mirror was cracked. I did not look into it. I looked at the gold line.

The forest was dark. The trees were old. They stood like sentinels. They whispered. I heard a voice. It was my own voice. It called my name. I turned. No one was there. Only the wind. The wind smelled of rot. It smelled of rain. I walked on. The gold line pulsed. It was alive. It pulled at my chest. It pulled at my heart. I felt a hunger. It was not for food. It was for something else.

I met a woman. She stood by a stream. Her hair was white. Her eyes were black. She held a lantern. The light was blue. She looked at me. She did not speak. I spoke. I asked for water. She handed me a cup. The water was ice. I drank. It burned. It cooled. I looked at her face. I saw my mother. I saw my wife. I saw myself. I was old. I was young. I was dead. I was alive. She pointed to the path. I bowed. I walked on.

The path led up a hill. The air was thin. It was hard to breathe. My legs burned. I fell. I crawled. The mud was in my hair. The mud was in my mouth. I tasted earth. I tasted blood. I stood. The gold line was bright now. It shone in the dark. It was no longer a line. It was a wall. It blocked my way. I could not pass. I pushed against it. It was solid. It was cold. It was made of light. I hit it. My hands bled. The light did not fade. It grew. It sang. The song was a low hum. It vibrated in my bones. I was part of the song. I was the note. I was the silence.

I sat on the ground. I waited. I did not know how long. Hours? Days? Time was a river. I was a stone. The current rushed past. I let it. I accepted it. I was defeated. The light was stronger than me. It was always stronger. I had thought I could take it. I had thought I could own it. I was wrong. I was small. I was dust. I was nothing. The light did not care. It simply was. I closed my eyes. I let the light in. It filled my head. It filled my heart. It filled my soul. I felt no pain. I felt no joy. I felt only peace. It was a heavy peace. It was a deep peace. It was the peace of the grave.

I opened my eyes. The wall was gone. The path was clear. I stood. I walked. I did not look back. I did not look at the mirror in my bag. I knew what it would show. I knew what I had lost. I knew what I had become. I was not Elias the husband. I was not Elias the son. I was not Elias the man. I was the path. I was the walker. I was the step. I was the foot. I was the ground. I was the dust. I was the gold.

The village was below. The smoke rose from the chimneys. The bells rang. The sound was soft. It was far away. I descended the hill. The mud was dry now. It was dust. It was grey. The gold line was gone. It was in me. I carried it. It weighed nothing. It weighed everything. I walked into the village. The doors were closed. The windows were dark. No one was out. The village was empty. The houses stood silent. The trees stood silent. The air was still. I was alone. I had always been alone. I had never been part of anything. I was a ghost. I was a shadow. I was a memory.

I walked to the center of the square. There was a well. The stone was mossy. I looked down. The water was black. It was deep. I saw a face. It was my face. It was smiling. I was not smiling. I threw my bag into the well. It sank. It made a small splash. It was quiet. I watched the water settle. I waited. I did not breathe. I held my breath. I held my life. I let it go. I let it sink. I let it disappear. I was empty. I was light. I was free.

The bells rang again. Louder now. Closer. I heard footsteps. They were on the cobblestones. They were slow. They were steady. I turned. A man was coming. He wore a cloak. He wore a hat. His face was hidden. He walked toward me. He stopped. He removed his hat. He was old. His hair was white. His eyes were kind. He looked at me. He did not know me. I did not know him. We were strangers. We were brothers. We were the same. He nodded. I nodded. He pointed to the house. It was the inn. The door was open. The light was warm. It was yellow. It was gold. It was the same gold. I followed him. I did not speak. I did not need to speak. We walked together. We walked into the light. We walked into the warm. We walked into the night.

The fire was burning. The room was small. The air was thick. It smelled of wood. It smelled of beer. It smelled of life. The man sat. I sat. He poured two cups. He handed me one. I took it. The wood was warm. It burned my fingers. I did not let go. He raised his cup. I raised mine. We drank. The beer was cold. It was bitter. It was sweet. I tasted the earth. I tasted the rain. I tasted the mud. I tasted the gold. I smiled. He smiled. We were together. We were one. We were the village. We were the people. We were the story. We were the end.

The night was long. The fire died. The stars came out. They were bright. They were cold. They were far. I looked at the man. He was sleeping. His face was peaceful. He was at rest. He was home. I looked at my hands. They were clean. They were soft. They were new. I was new. I was changed. I was transformed. The mirror was in the well. The past was in the well. The self was in the well. I was free. I was light. I was gold.

The morning came. The light came. It was soft. It was pale. It was grey. The man woke. He looked at me. He stood. He bowed. He left. I did not see him go. I sat by the window. I watched the street. It was empty. The dust settled. The silence grew. I stood. I walked out. The air was fresh. It was clean. It was mine. I walked. I did not know where. I did not need to know. I was the walker. I was the path. I was the gold. I was the end. I was the beginning. I was the life. I was the death. I was the truth. I was the lie. I was the self. I was the other. I was the one. I was the many. I was the all. I was the nothing. I was the everything. I was the silence. I was the sound. I was the breath. I was the heart. I was the soul. I was the spirit. I was the ghost. I was the gold.

I walked on. The road was long. It was straight. It was clear. It was mine. I walked. I walked. I walked.